There was Something in Your Hair that Night, the Stars were Bright, my Guapo

Today I am on the subject of songs. Not just any songs. I mean assinine songs. What got me to thinking about these songs was listening to Kid Rock in my car on the way to work the other day. I am not sure what the name of the song is, but it is obviously a newer one. The chorus is something like, "I feel like Jackson, Mississippi with a river runnin' thru it." Like I said it is something like that. Probably not the EXACT wording. At any rate, for those of you who do not know, Jackson, Mississippi does not have a river runnin' thru it. I guess the Pearl River kind of goes thru it, but why the hell would anyone want to sing about the fucking Pearl River?! It probably only bothers me because I live in Jackson. Well, I live close enough to say that I do. Not that it is something I am overly ecstatic about.

Another song that I find blatantly vulgar, disturbing, and disgusting is an older song. Not sure what it is called, but I DO know that during the chorus of this slower song, I get nauseated. The chorus repeats, "Only women bleed." Now I have listened to this song a buhjillion times trying to make the chorus into anything other than what it is. I have pretended he was singing, "Only women BREED. or Only women BREATHE. or Only women GRIEVE." I have tried my best to make that song into something non projectile vomit enducing. I mean who the hell wants to make a baby while listening to a man crooning about a woman's giner cycle? It is SICK is what it is.

Speaking of giners, 4SW at the hospital where I work always smells like rotten, sweaty Mawmaw giners. I hate going to that floor. It fucking reeks. I just want to staple my nostrils shut every time I am forced to go up there. It is cruel and unusual if you ask me. And you obviously did. I mean, imagine being trapped inside of a ginormous, moist, sweaty, rotting Mawmaw giner. Sick huh. Well I have to work inside one somedays. It is horrible.

Speaking of work, Father O'Flannigan and I had a conversation about which drugs I can steal for him from the pharmacy. At some point, I mentioned that I wanted to steal a bottle of testosterone from there. He assumed it would be for personal use and for personal growth of the muscular variety. I told him that I had never even thought about doing that, but that it was a good idea. I wanted to steal it so I would have it handy in case a girl ever pissed me off. I'd slip it in her drink and over time turn her into a man. He said I am not normal. No normal, sane person would have seen a bottle of testerone and immediately thought, "Oh, I could use that to turn bitches into bastards." Sometimes I wish I were on the crack rock soas to give me a quasi legit excuse for acting the way I do.

This girl that I work with recently moved back into her parents' house. She said everyone in the house is on the Atkin's diet. This is basically what she had to say about Atkins:
"I think Atkin's is evil. That diet is so unhealthy. Yea, ya lose weight, but you end up dying of cardiac arrest or like kidney failure. I mean, they have the four fuckin' food groups for a reason!"

I thought it was pretty funny. Maybe ya had to be there.

So I saw my pregnant sister tonight. She kept poking herself in the stomach trying to make the baby kick so I could see it. It refused to move. I said, "Maybe the baby is dead." She kind of freaked out a little before slapping/punching me on the arm and screaming, "Don't SAY that!" Why are people so touchy about death. It happens, ya know. I am too morbid I guess.

So I have been listening to Alanis Morissette's old cd Jagged Little Pill. I have decided that I am a lesbian. I am, basically, Lillith Fair with a dick. God I am such a dyke. See like even if I were not going to be a gay man, I'd still be gay. If I were a real lesbian, I would want to be a lipstick lesbian. Although, knowing how I am, I'd end up as like someone's bitch on the back of a Harley with Dykes on Bikes. I can't do anything right. Not even in a hypothetical lesbian sense.

So NN mentioned on CatsInTheTub that I have a new beau who is tall and thin. Well, if you are an Oompa Loompa, he may seem ginormous to you. He is a towering five feet and five inches tall. He weighs one hundred five pounds. He is a little bitty thing. Father O wants to put him in his pocket and carry him around. I think that my boyfriend, whom I will call Guapo for journal entries, has issues with his size. I think he is extremely handsome and should get over it. He is also hilarious. We have very complimentary humors. He is very dry and quick witted. I mean like really REALLY dry. He has goals in life. He dosen't do drugs. I don't want to say too much about him as this journal seems to be a curse on my love life. Actually I won't say anything else about him. I think I kind of sort of somewhat slightly very much so would love to absolutely positively try and keep this one around. He is COMPLETELY unlike anyone I have ever dated or met in the faggot community. He is not yet corrupted by it or jaded. Anyway, not going to talk about him anymore.

you live you learn you love you learn you cry you learn you lose you learn you bleed you learn you scream you learn i recommend biting off more than you can chew to anyone i certainly do.